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The Gwen Stacy Syndrome	By : Ksennin Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Spiderman Views: 39313 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man, nor the characters in the franchise. I make no money from publishing this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Dear MJ,
I’m writing this on my tablet, in the backseat of your car as you drive to the airport, Felicia in the passenger seat, pointing out landmarks from a tour guide. I think she wants you to stay. I know I do. But it’s my job—my privilege—to support you and I could never be as selfish as to ask you to turn an opportunity like this down. So don’t think for a second that we can’t endure being apart from you. Even if I’m missing you already. I know I’m striking a bit of a contradictory tone here—
You know me. I would spend every waking moment with you, if I could, but that wouldn’t be good for us. You need to have your life and I need to have mine—we need to choose to live together, not have no other options. I’m making a mess of this—the last time we tried being together, I think we got some things wrong, and everything we did wrong I want to get right this time. I don’t want you to feel left out. I don’t want you to think anything you do or feel is unimportant, because it’s important to me and it’s important to Cat, even if she doesn’t admit it. I know I’ve had a pretty crazy job over the worlds, you have always made me feel strong and capable and that’s how I want to make you feel.
I mean, my goodness, you’re one of the leads in a two hundred million dollar movie. Don’t think for one second I don’t think that has its own pressures and challenges and a lot of BS that I’ll never have to deal with. But you can handle it, I know you can. And whatever changes this makes for our life together, we can handle those too. As an… us.
I’m going to write this out longhand and send it to you in England via air mail, so hopefully I’ll have thought of a better way to phrase all this. Please don’t ask to look at the first draft. It is getting deleted.
I know, I know, our life together has been crazy and Felicia isn’t going to simplify matters. But that’s good, complicated is good. You’re complicated and I love you to death. One good thing about said crazy life is that I know you can take care of things in England, and I can take care of things back here, even apart.
I’ve been thinking about Gwen lately. Not in a bad way, a fearful way—I haven’t been to the bridge—but I thought about the three of us, and Flash, and Harry… the Coffee Bean, Empire State University, all that. Things with Gwen were always simple, and I think I’ve been using that as a benchmark for a long time. Like love should be simple. But it wasn’t simple, not really. She was lying to me and I was lying to her. How’s that saying go? ‘Romeo and Juliet wouldn’t have lasted’?
It’s hard to write that down. Don’t think that I resent her. I still have feelings for her, the same way I have scars. But if she were back, I would still choose you and Felicia. She wasn’t the love of my life, you two are. Because my life didn’t end with her. It went on. You stood by me, and Felicia fought for me, and as complicated and weird as things got, that’s still love.
I have no idea how to end this letter, so I’m not going to. I’m just gonna send what I’ve written today and send some more tomorrow. Maybe let Felicia write something. Probably not. I’m still not sure what I could have possibly done to deserve the two of you, so I can only assume that I’ve just gotten phenomenally lucky. Like a lottery winner or something. You hear about those lottery winners who waste it all on beer cozies or whatever? I don’t want to be that guy. I’m gonna remember how lucky I am, always.
***
“You could just use webbing, you know,” Felicia said as Peter failed to bite through another length of duct tape, getting a tape-y taste all over his tongue. It looked so easy in the movies…
“I like to advertise my identity a little more subtly than that.”
“You should wear looser pants, then.” Felicia dug into her pea coat, taking out a glove for her costume, and slipping it on as she sauntered up to him. “Because that is totally Spider-Man’s ass you’re popping.”
“Popping?”
She cut the duct tape with her claw. Peter affixed it to the top of the box he’d packed up. One more load for the movers Felicia had hired. Big burly Russians who had talked about how, if anyone asked, they were playing pool down at Cousin Marv’s. Peter wasn’t sure they were aware that they were just helping him move out of his apartment and into Felicia’s.
Peter picked up another widget for this combined spring cleaning and move. He’d never really gotten down to the nitty-gritty of pitching Ock’s stuff. And he definitely didn’t remember owning so many anime statues. He put it in one of the pitch bags.
“Can’t you go bug Reed Richards for something to just teleport all this junk to my place?” Felicia asked, sitting atop an ajar door like that was at all a natural human being pose. “This is boring.”
“It’s my stuff. I don’t want it to spend any amount of time in the Negative Zone. Also, secret identity.” Peter picked up a yellowing paperback copy of A Princess of Mars. “Hey, I think this is mine.” Ock had pitched most of his reading material, preferring a Kindle. Philistine.
Felicia sighed. “Why do you insist on bringing a bunch of junk into my classy up-town apartment?”
“It’s not junk. This was actually a landmark achievement in sci-fi…”
“Oh God…”
“You can trace elements of Star Wars directly to this book…”
“God,” Felicia repeated. “Okay. Fine. But your room, remember? You have your room, MJ has her room, I have my room. Boundaries. That’s how I’ll survive being in love with nerd trash.”
“’She said lovingly’…”
“I only love you for your body. Sure you want to do this right now, with MJ in the air? Seems a little, I don’t know—“
“Keeping busy is a good thing,” Peter replied, boxing up a collection of old game cartridges. He’d probably put them in storage, see if the next time he moved he was mature enough to sell them on eBay or at a garage sale. “I’m not just going to brood about my problems. Not that Mary Jane being successful in her chosen field is a problem…”
Felicia smiled wryly. “Sure you don’t want to go brood on top of a church or something?”
“I’m not Daredevil.”
“I can flirt with you, try to get you to eat my pussy, it’ll be just like old times!”
“If you want me to eat you out, you can just ask.”
“Here? I’d half-expect Norman Bates to be watching through a hole in the wall.”
“I congratulate your knowledge of film canon.”
“Oh, I know about the scariest film ever made? I must be Roger Ebert. Say, where are all the diamonds?”
“Diamonds?”
Felicia hopped down, bending her body this way and that to make a pantomime of looking for them. “And, you know, pearls, precious metals, occasional piece of artwork? Stuff I’ve stolen over the years and gifted to you, just as a thanks for all the sex?”
“You couldn’t send flowers?”
“It’s very hard to steal flowers. They grow in the ground.”
“Well, those diamonds…” Peter rubbed at his upper lip. “Man, those diamonds…” He scratched the back of his neck. “They were, technically—well, not just technically—stolen property, which I really don’t… hold with…”
“Peter.”
“I might’ve, you know, turned them over to the police.”
“Peter.”
“As Spider-Man, of course, just said that I busted up a fence or whatever and found these, here you go, I didn’t give them your name, of course…”
“I gave you presents and you returned them?”
“You could think of it as me just giving gifts to the police. They work hard, you know.”
Felicia made a beeline for the door. “If that’s how much you appreciate me, you can just pack up without my help!”
“You weren’t helping!”
“I was motivating you!”
***
Peter resolved not to call Mary Jane for relationship advice; he didn’t know threesome etiquette, but that felt too much like the two of them ganging up on Felicia. So, in the classic Parker fashion, he decided to give her space—otherwise known as doing nothing and hoping it blew over. He kept going with the packing, let the Russians take the boxes down to the truck and divvy up the pitch pile, finally arriving at Felicia’s place after convincing the he-was-pretty-sure-they-were-mobsters to stop for lunch at McDonald’s, his treat.
Felicia let him come up to her apartment. That was a good sign.
“Sorry, was that a little—“ Felicia smiled, like a cat caught staring at a fish. “I’m not trying to be a crazy ex. Even though I have been crazy. And your ex.”
“It’s fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t know they meant that much to you. I thought it was like, me and stealing, you and science… you wouldn’t be impressed if I named a molecule after you, would ya?”
“I don’t know—would it be a hot molecule?” Felicia put her arms around his neck, hanging off him. She enjoyed having a boyfriend who was only slightly taller than her. Too tall and things got difficult. Too short and she couldn’t respect them. Peter was just right. “Anyway, I vented to MJ, so we’re cool now.”
They’re ganging up on me. Knew I should’ve called her. “Wanna go on patrol? Beat up some bad guys? Possibly sustain grievous injury?”
“No thanks, Responsibility Jones. I was going to take a nap and eat something covered in chocolate. Possibly you.” She sauntered away from him—always so good at that. “By the way, you don’t want me steal things for you anymore, right?”
“Yes. I enjoy being vaguely obedient of the law.” Peter winced as one of the passing Russian movers eyed him. “Not that the law is that great or anything…”
“Well, I already got you something. This one could you keep, please?”
“Of course, Phe. Just this once.”
“See? Mary Jane knew you would see reason.” Grabbing him by a shirt cuff, Felicia pulled him into another room. Of course it had a bed. But all Felicia did was get on her knees and reach under it, pulling out a large disc-shaped object. Like a trash can lid painted red and blue. “Ta-da!”
Peter recognized it. With the sinking feeling it gave him, how could he not? “Is that…?”
“Captain America’s shield? Yeah.” Felicia grinned at him. “I know you’re a fan.”
“Doesn’t he, uh… doesn’t he need that? For criminals?”
“Eh, I’m sure he has a spare.”
“It’s made of a unique adamantium-vibranium compound—“
“And it gives you a warm fuzzy feeling that I would steal it for you?” Felicia interrupted. “Yeah. Don’t worry, you don’t have to steal anything for me. Just, you know—“
“Eat you out,” Peter said numbly.
“We are such a great couple!”
***
Avengers Tower was a state-of-the-art, heavily fortified headquarters where America’s premier superteam could both defend from enemy attach and launch offensives against the most dire catastrophes.
Peter Parker ran through it very quickly.
“Tony!” he cried, nearly pancaking himself into the wall of the clean room. Through a glass window, Tony Stark was assembling a microchip like the world’s smallest jigsaw puzzle. “I need a bro code moment.”
Tony made a minute adjustment of two decameters. “I’m a little busy…”
“Tony, bro code! Now!”
That was when Steve Rogers poked his head in. “Have either of you seen my shield?”
“No,” Tony said.
“What he said,” Peter said. Then, in a whisper, “was no.” There. He hadn’t lied to Captain America.
“Well, let me know if you see it.”
Peter gulped as he left. He was still gulping—it was a big gulp—as Tony emerged from the clean room in his scrubs and plastic booties.
“What is it, Parker? I could be creating a device that cuts off any video that asks you to Like or Subscribe right now.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“I’m bored,” Tony justified. Then his eyes took on a gleam that usually worried Peter. “Are there… shenanigans?”
Peter took a deep breath. “Felicia stole Cap’s shield and gave it to me.”
“So give it back.”
“I can’t. It was a gift.”
“Pete, Cap needs his shield. When he throws his mighty shield, etc, etc. Kinda important that he actually has a shield for that.”
“I know, I know… what about that time you built him a solid-light shield?”
Tony waved away the suggestion. “What about the time I built you a suit of powered armor?”
“You went crazy and tried to imprison me in the Negative Zone.”
“Yeesh, hold that over my head forever.” Tony stroked his goatee. “Just give it back.”
“I can’t. Felicia is my… we’re ladyfriends. I mean, she’s my—you get from I’m saying.”
“Geez, Pete, there are other girls. Girls that don’t steal iconic pieces of Americana—wait, is this the Black Cat we’re talking about?”
“Yes.”
“The Black Cat? Not some Black Cat V who’s a Cuban woman and a member of X-Force, but the actual—“
“Actual Black Cat.”
“Okay. Objection withdrawn. Niiiice.” Tony slapped Peter’s back. “Okay then, keep it. Steve would understand. If he weren’t born before the invention of the Wonder-Bra.”
“I can’t keep it, it’s like his best friend!”
“I’m his best friend.”
“You went crazy and tried to imprison him—“
“Let it go,” Tony interjected. “Okay. You can’t keep it. You can’t get rid of it.”
“Exactly.”
“What if I used a network of satellites—just a small one—to make your girl think she had never stolen Cap’s shield—“
“Tony, no.”
“Just think about it.”
“No satellites.”
“Okay then. That limits our options. I guess all that’s left is to ask Steve if it’s okay for you to have his shield.”
“Ask Steve—“ Peter sputtered. “You want me to ask—my girlfriend stole from him and you want me to ask him if I can keep the loot? The loot, Tony!?”
“If anyone would go for it, it’d be Steve.”
Peter’s eyebrows drew together. “That’s actually a good point.”
“Yeah, I know him pretty well, being his best friend and all.” Tony jabbed a finger at him suddenly. “Don’t say it—“
“I wasn’t going to say it.”
“Good.”
***
Steve’s voice, as always, was calm, rational, and warm. “I’m not sure how my shield could help you with your relationship difficulties, but if it means that much to you, sure, you can borrow it for a while.”
“Oh, that’s a weight off my shoulders.” Peter collapsed onto the living room’s couch, nearly hitting Luke Cage, who was nursing his baby. “I really didn’t want to work it this way, Steve, I swear. It’s just—I’ve been kind of a jerk before, so I’m trying to make up for it.”
“It’s no problem, really. It’s probably about time I try out alternatives anyway. You don’t want to get stuck in a rut. Who knows what Tony could have cooked up with his solid-light shield by now?”
“Exactly,” Peter breathed. “Exactly. It’s kind of a good thing. We’ll just pretend we don’t know Felicia took it, but in reality, we’re all totally cool.” He leapt up. “I should go. I have a lot of unpacking to do.”
“Thanks for telling me,” Steve said. “And Peter?”
“Yeah?”
“Could you… send me pictures of it? Just once a day? So I know it’s alright.”
“Yeah.” Peter nodded slowly. “Sure…”
***
Moving into a new apartment and unpacking was not just something you put on a to-do list. It was a long, painful process, like learning to walk again after a spinal injury. A week later, Peter was still forcing himself to find the time to unpack one more box…
“I’m impressed with you, Peter,” Felicia said, in the doorway of Peter’s bedroom (it was bigger than his old apartment). She watched him unpack his things with a keen eye.
“And I’m not even naked.”
“I thought for sure that you would’ve gone running back to Captain America with his precious shield. I was going to needle you about it.”
“What can I say?” Peter plugged in his ancient clock radio and set the time. “I’m a bad boy, Cat. A rebel.”
“Uh-huh.” Felicia crossed the room to sit down on his bed, bouncing her butt on it experimentally. “Look, I know you’re not a thief or a criminal. You’re… not exactly a boy scout, but deep down, you’re into following the rules and getting a pat on the head and eating your vegetables.”
“What’s wrong with vegetables?”
“Exactly.” Felicia patted the bed next to her. Peter sat down. “I’m in love with you, Peter Parker. Even if you are a total square. I don’t expect you to enjoy picking locks or not wearing underwear—“
“Why would you not wear under—“
“Ssh.” Felicia put her finger to his lips. “I get that. But let’s face it, there’s a reason Darkhawk was an Avenger before you. You don’t play well with others. Every so often, you walk on the wild side. And I really like that. You cutting loose and enjoying yourself. So let’s meet halfway. I won’t pull you too far out of your comfort zone and you won’t pull me too far out of mine.”
“Well…” Peter said consideringly. “I do like it when you steal from bad guys instead of, you know, innocent people. Innocent museums. Et al.”
“And I like it when you fuck me on rooftops. Look, I know you don’t want the shield. So how about you give it back to Rogers and I get you another present. Something with a receipt this time.”
“I promise I’ll love it.”
“Yeah, you will. Who doesn’t like pegging?”
Peter shook his head. “I still don’t know what that is.”
“For now, why don’t you lie back? It’s been a long day—I saw that fight you had with the Rhino on the news. I’ll get some lotion, we’ll see what we can do about those bruises.”
Peter unbuttoned his shirt, guessing that this would be a clothing-optional session. “A massage?”
“No.” Felicia winked at him. “Massages are legal. This would fall more under the category of prostitution.”
***
They didn’t actually get to the ‘prostitution’, which was good, since Peter’s finances were in the same dire straits as ever, even with his exciting new occupation of rentboy. But he was exhausted after the fight with Rhino, just too wired up to sleep, and having Felicia slather him up with hot oil and rub all feeling out of his muscles took care of that. He shut his eyes to enjoy the massage and kept them closed for a long, restful sleep.
When he came awake, he found his pillow felt different. Not the lumpy thing he had automatically packed and promised himself he’d replace once he had some pocket money. No, this was soft, yet firm. He opened his eyes, reaching behind his head to pat it, only to find a warm, naked thigh in his hands. He looked to the side to see a glossy thatch of pubic hair. The giggles started shortly after.
He looked down Randi’s supple leg to see Bambi and Candi kneeling on the mattress, playing with his leaden cock through the thin bedsheet. All three of his neighbors were nude. Felicia sat nearby on the bean bag chair he’d had since college, filming through a Handicam.
“Thought I’d send a little care package to Mary Jane,” Felicia explained. “Some home-made cookies, a mix tape, and a little proof that you’re in good hands. Three women to sub for one Mary Jane. That sounds about right, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Peter said, boggling, his cock growing hard. Confusion and arousal—his life all over. “But how’d you talk them—“ He looked at Randi. “How’d she talk you into this?”
“Oh, Peter, we’d do anything for a friend.”
“We owe Felicia a favor,” Bambi said.
“And I’ve always wanted to know what all those hot bitches you date see in you,” Candi added. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Felicia interjected. “I fully admit I’m a hot bitch. Now, Peter, alright if we start?”
Whatever resolve Peter had left after giving into Felicia and Mary Jane a few weeks ago was rapidly dissipating. He wasn’t as attracted to Randi, Bambi, or Candi, nor did he have the same feelings for them, but the prospect of casual, no-strings-attached sex—with Felicia watching and Mary Jane in the loop as well—had its own brand of taboo thrill. “And you’re sure MJ’s okay with it?”
“Such a big sweetie…” Randi muttered warmly.
“It was her idea!” Bambi cried.
“She asked us,” Candi confirmed.
Felicia lowered the camera. “The only reason I didn’t offer you up to these three sirens the moment she got on the plane was that I wanted her in private when I sent this to her. Her director’s been running her pretty ragged, but she’s finally got a day off, and I know for a fact that nothing’s going to make that lonely trailer feel more like home than getting to watch you in action.”
Bambi nudged his veiled cock with her nose. “You’re not gonna kick us out, are you Petey? We’ve been wanting to try this forever.”
Candi went further, licking him through the sheet. He shivered at the warmth and wetness of her tongue, the damp sheet now clinging to his manhood. “We’ll be gentle. Promise.”
Peter took a deep breath. An open relationship, of sorts, with Felicia arranging the wife swaps. He was going to die.
Well, it hadn’t been so bad the first time…
“C’mere,” he told Randi, tilting his head back. She slid a creamy thigh over his face and there it was, a graceful little cunt all shaved for him.
He brushed his mouth against it and she shuddered like a machine just starting up. She got a firm grip on the headboard as he let his mouth provide the suction, the tongue, and the teeth he knew she wanted. She responded in an energized whisper, panting his name, pressing her warming need to his mouth, giving him her juices fresh. She gasped, bucking her hips faster and faster against his face. His hands eagerly explored her from round bottom to silken breasts.
Then Peter paused. Between the two of them, Candi and Bambi had dragged the bedsheets off his body, and his erection was no longer a tent but a flag pole. They shared it, ganging up on him with teeth that dragged over his thrilled nerves, warm saliva that covered him tight as a condom, tongues that whipped at him like gale-force winds. Felicia laid back in her seat, filming with one hand, the other down her pants. All around Peter was naked flesh, every line and curve arranged for pleasure, both to the eye and to the touch.
Candi’s face pressed in close next to Bambi’s. “You want his cum or can I have it?”
Bambi’s lovely face shone with sweat already. “Between the three of us, I think he’ll have enough for both! We’ll take turns after he starts shooting.”
Candi nodded with a lewd smile. “Good. Because I want a mouthful—and I wanna see you take him down your throat.” Her hand flying over his cock, Candi offered Peter to Bambi’s mouth. She gave it a few quick sucks, then Candi had it twitching in her mouth again as she sucked as hard as she could. She slurped her way right off it, and as soon as her lips slid off the dripping head, Bambi was right back on it.
“I don’t think he’s gonna last much longer!” Bambi gushed joyfully as soon as he was out of her mouth. Watching his entire body straining, Candi had to agree.
Peter heard the challenge just before Randi closed her thighs on his head like a vice, blinding and deafening him with her spasms. With Bambi and Candi on his legs, mouths and hands on his groins, he was buried in female flesh.
He was desperately tempted to just lie there, giving up his manhood to whichever mouth wanted it, but he was determined not to disappoint Mary Jane or Felicia. He ate Randi’s sex like it was a feast, savoring every inch of flesh, driving her crazy with ecstasy. He could hear, as if underwater, her gurgles of pleasure, Bambi’s laughter, Candi’s lips smacking on his prick, even Felicia’s self-pleasure. It was a total orgy. He was in heaven.
Only he heard the sound he made as Randi came in his mouth; it was the only sound he could make, and it was one of complete satisfaction.
“That’s enough,” Felicia ordered, clapping her free hand on her thigh. Legs unable to support her, Randi crawled off Peter’s face, leaving it glossy with her cream. She pulled herself down the length of the bed, to where Bambi and Candi rode Peter’s legs. “Bambi, your turn.”
Bambi gave Peter’s cock a lingering kiss, then climbed up to the head of the bed, mounting Peter’s face. She raised her eyebrows at his dumbfounded expression. “I’m not easy like Randi. You’re gonna have to work to make me come.”
He stared at her pink cunt, already wet. “I’m game if you are.”
“Wait a minute, Bambi,” Candi cried. “There’s something I want to show him first.”
She was lying between his legs now, her breasts on full display as she looked up at him. Of all the three, she had the largest, her mountainous cleavage a full cup size larger than her two roommates, while being so firm that they barely fell without the support of a bra. He noticed a tattoo of a rose above one nipple; it seemed odd that they’d lived together for so long without him seeing it.
Candi seemed as awed by her breasts as he was. She lovingly grasped one in either hand, then pressed them together over his penis. Peter delighted in the feel of her lushly cushioned on every side, the flesh encasing him soft and pliant. He couldn’t resist bucking up into the deep, deep valley of her cleavage, the warmth of her full, fleshy mammaries quickly heating into pure pleasure.
Candi looked down in appreciation and delight as he repeatedly plowed through her cleavage. Then Randi moved in, clutching Candi’s luscious breasts for her and holding them together so that Candi was free to reach down and do something Peter could not see, but that Felicia trained the camera on. It registered ecstatically on Candi’s face. She watched Peter’s cockhead emerge, again and again, through the channel of her breasts, always with a fresh bead of precum to dot burningly on her skin. She watched it come inches from her lips, and every time it seemed closer, every time she was more aroused.
Then Bambi could wait no longer. She sat herself on Peter’s face and he obligingly licked, sucked, kissed, giving her molten core the full treatment, stoking a fire that was already an inferno. So he missed seeing Randi sprawl herself over his body, shoving her face into Candi’s considerable breasts, finding a bar of heat already occupying her cleavage.
Randi licked and sucked, rolling her tongue over every inch of Candi’s tits, every bit of Peter’s cock that she could find, tongue traveling over everything, tasting everything, Candi’s sweat and Peter’s musk, licking and sucking, sucking and licking, kissing, kissing, kissing until it seemed impossible Peter wasn’t coming, Candi was coming, why wasn’t he?
Peter’s tongue had stopped playing around. It was all over Bambi’s clit, punishing it for some heinous act, driving her crazy, maddening her to the point of orgasm. She writhed, cried out, gave up her orgasm like she would die without it. She fell off him panting and murmuring, whining with total joy. “Never had it so good!”
“Your turn,” Felicia said, aiming the camera at Candi, following her jiggling body as it jumped up to replace Bambi on Peter’s face. She sat on his chest, deathly serious with anticipation, need, and spread her pussy lips to let him see everything that was being offered, from her clitoris burgeoning through its hood to the shine of her juices on ready, pink folds.
“Dig in,” she ordered, scooting her crotch to his face. He was suddenly swimming in the taste and scent of her, consumed by the wet valley of her sex. He bored his tongue forward, into her sucking need; he worked his jaw, probed his tongue, marveled in the clean, fresh feeling of her.
Candi was already sighing. “Oh yeah. Oh my. Your tongue feels awesome, man—keep it moving—keep going inside me…”
He didn’t need to be told once, let alone twice. Every breath he took was soaked in her, every exhale he made sent lust rippling through her. And then he felt Bambi and Randi climbing atop his pelvis, legs parting, bodies crossing, pinning his stiffened cock between their slits. They enveloped him, but didn’t hold him—he was caught between them and it was like they were fighting for his cock with their frantic scissoring, trying to capture his stiffness all for themselves, but only succeeding in bringing jubilant pleasure to all three of them.
Meanwhile, Candi was far more impatient than the other two had been. She galloped atop his face, fucking herself on his tongue, her hands in his hair, her arms trying to stuff his face inside her. His hands were on Bambi and Randi’s asses, pushing them even closer together, even harder onto his steel-hard manhood. He felt his cock straining for ecstasy and their shared, liquid heat even as he gulped down Candi’s juices.
“Put your finger in me,” Candi wailed, her voice a hoarse echo of its former self. “Put your finger up in me.”
“No room,” he growled into her cunt, before demonstrating with his tongue.
She rode his face even faster, nearly bouncing off the bed. “Not there… my ass… up my ass!”
Bambi and Randi’s hands were all over each other, slicking along sweaty backs, squeezing clenched buttocks, touching everywhere except where it would force their bodies to part. They were mated from the lips downward, breast to breast, belly to belly, cunt to cunt, only Peter’s impossible hard-on separating them.
They shared each other’s wetness and competed for Peter’s cock, the fact that it never actually penetrated into them deliciously prolonging the orgasm they both felt bearing down on them. They swayed together, hips rocking back and forth to the music of their pounding blood, their clits erect and desperate for contact, but the pleasure just sharp enough to leave them untouched. They let their passion grow and grow, a never-ending kiss that burned hotter and hotter between two bodies that pulled endlessly closer together.
Peter sunk his hands into Candi’s tender ass, spreading the cheeks apart and finding her anus quickly, slippery with sweat and the lube she had used to penetrate herself. He thought her earlier masturbation had just been some fingering. The thought that she had actually sodomized herself made his cock somehow harder. He twisted the tip of his finger into her tight hole, gritting his teeth against the continuing pressure of his pending climax against his entire body.
“Ahhhhh!” Candi cried, her sharp cry instantly overwhelming the passionate outbursts from her two roommates. “More!” she demanded, frantic, wanting it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her young life.
Peter drove his finger deeper, feeling the tight ring of muscle make a token clench before letting him in, like it was eager to usher him through to painful, pleasurable depths. He added another thing, a third, making Candi’s asshole blaze with tightly intermingled sensation. When she finally came, it was because she had no choice.
“My ass!” she wailed inauspiciously, her climax boiling up from the heated intrusion from behind, the wicked friction in front.
She let her full weight fall on Peter’s face and was actually lifted up by only Peter’s tongue as climax shocked her body, arching her torso, thrusting her breasts upward, letting a pink flush spread up from her satiated womanhood like a circuit had been completed. Her sex fed Peter honey like it was trying to repay him. Finally, she overextended herself and fell back against Bambi and Randi.
They had orgasmed themselves, finally finishing themselves off with quick flicks of each other’s buttons as Peter ejaculated, face pressed into Candi’s satin-warm sex, but tasting only the electric sting of his ejaculation—feeling like he’d been killed and every shot was bringing him back to life, gushing first onto Bambi and then onto Randi as they wrestled for final possession of his throbbing climax. He released completely, glowing, relieved, opened and emptied. When Candi fell against them, Bambi and Randi were equally satisfied and equally wet with cum.
“Not fair,” Candi whined, when she could breathe again. “I wanted some bukkake too!”
“You want it?” Felicia asked, her hand still hard at work between her thighs. “Get over here.”
Candi eagerly fell off the bed, crawling across the floor to the standing Felicia, her fly unzipped, her panties shoved down low. Felicia looked down at the conquest kneeling before her, eyes closed, mouth open, her favorite submission. She looked at Bambi and Randi, marked with her man’s seed, and she looked at Peter, the conquering hero conquered by the harem she’d recruited. She came like it was silk running down her pussy, fluttering from her blush-warm body, splattering down onto Candi’s eager acceptance. The camera caught it all, looking down at Candi as Felicia ejaculated like she’d turned a water bottle upside down.
Satisfied at last, and not even having been touched, Felicia sat back down. She stopped her recording and immediately sent it to Mary Jane, the final image that of Peter and two women, sticky with sweat and sex, piled atop him.
Peter spoke like he was coming out of a coma. “Tell MJ I love her. And that we’ll be sending her another video in an hour.”
“An hour?” Bambi griped, reaching down to briskly tease Peter’s slippery cock. “That long?”
Then she felt it answering in gulping bolts of hardness.
“No,” Peter replied. “We’ll be done in an hour. Candi, get back here. Lie down next to Bambi. I want all of you on your backs.”
Felicia had to help Candi stagger over. “This is why I bought us all king-sized beds.” She tossed Candi down to the mattress as Peter slipped out from them, now standing over the line of women, next to Felicia. “I’m still your favorite, though?”
Peter kissed her on the cheek. “You’re neck and neck with a redhead. So. You’re the master. What’s the play?”
Felicia observed the three women, slowly coming around for more. “Well, Candi’s the only one you didn’t jizz all over, so you should probably fuck her. Randi and Bambi will be right next to her. You can finger them, right?”
“And you?”
“I finally thought of something to do with that bracelet I got off the Shocker. But don’t come inside Candi. Pull out. I want to lick you off all three of them before this is over.”
This time, Peter kissed her on the mouth.
Neither of them looked at the door, ajar by a slender crack, a single eye on the other side. Ana Kravinoff continued to be astonished by this universe’s Peter Parker. He had five broodmares, and he had satisfied three of them at once. Which meant it was possible…
Mary Jane Watson. Felicia Hardy. And her. Mates of the Spider.
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The Gwen Stacy Syndrome